


Phone Call

by aegeanpocket



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fic Fest, Fluff, Jicheol, M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, betweenyouandme, happy jicheol day, jicheol fic fest, slight angst, tsundere stuff, word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 09:45:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8323141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aegeanpocket/pseuds/aegeanpocket
Summary: Jihoon and Seungcheol have known each other since they were kids. But they're not close to even share hugs when they part ways. They are not really close. At least that's what Jihoon believes.After spending years of not meeting with each other, will one phone call changes everything?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Between you and me Jicheol fic fest.
> 
> Prompt: Dor (n.) a deep and nostalgic feeling of sadness, agony, and emptiness experienced upon intensely missing, longing, and yearning for something or someone.
> 
> This is my first time participating in a fic fest oh goooshhhh so nervous i love jicheol too much djajsklda so sorry for the mistakes that I've made (especially tenses usage damn).

Since Jihoon was little, he couldn't sleep to any lullabies his mom had sang to him. His mom always had problem putting him to sleep. As time goes by, he realized that he always needed extra solitude to get to sleep. That's why he always slept at times where spiders were too tired to lurk—or when he could listen to his own breathing. Jihoon was an extremely light sleeper—he could wake up to a sound of his own snoring. But he always dreamed. It was pretty absurd because it didn’t usually have an ending. It got cut in the middle, or in a very good part, "Because you have a third ear." His mom once said.

He always woke up to a call, even when it was vibrating. His dream was getting into a good part where a huge ship was finally going to sail in the sky. He often had a ship in his dreams—he always like to have a ship in his dreams. It was a little weird that he was the most happiest when he was dreaming about a ship. One of the things that bothered his dreams was phone calls. It cut his dream. It ruined his ship and it ruined the good part.

Phone calls also made him tired. They made him nervous; sometimes he didn't prepare such energy.

He was mostly tired. Was it even possible to be mostly tired? Was it because he didn’t get much question about himself? Maybe the only thing that he needed was just a silly attention? Or maybe he was just waiting for someone to give him attention, where he didn’t have to flaunt the attention itself? To put it simply, he was a coward. He was not courageous enough to tell the world that he was actually deprived of attention.

He also hated that he was not courageous enough to answer phone calls. He’d rather text. He hated phone calls, especially at this dead of night.

Jihoon tried to ignore the call but the vibration coming from the phone kept on bothering him. Jihooon groaned as he checked his phone.

A name popped out in the screen. Jihoon tried to process the name. It was a familiar name, but with a really foreign feel. He was also astonished by how he still managed to keep _that_ number after all this years.

 _Choi Seungcheol._ It was a name that sent him back to the past with a rapid speed. His name rings an alarm, and it was a false alarm—it woke him in a wrong time.

But this time, it didn’t wake him up. It stirred him up. He had to remind himself that it's _him_ —over and over again.

But a phone call was something that was not likely to come from someone like him. Considering that he knew him since little, he should understand that he hated phone calls. But then he remembered, they were never really friends. How would he know that he hated phone calls? How would he even know that he would pick up his phone? They never call each other. Were they even that close? The answer was, nothing can make them close. Even when they both read Monkey Beach or listen to Oasis, they were avoiding each other like a plague. They flaunted each other's differences, and hide every similarity that they had. Their conversations only lasted a minute, because they couldn’t talk without getting drowned in each other’s eyes—as cheesy as it sounds.

They also couldn’t be alone together. It would remind them that they were not friends. Friends are not supposed to be awkward. And they were not supposed to be acting—Jihoon often said that he liked this junior to make him jealous during high school and he would constantly said that he would date this cute junior—and Seungcheol would do the same. The only difference was, Seungcheol dated his junior for real.

"You two look really good together." Jihoon once said to him in between classes.

Jihoon was a great actor, and when he said that to him, it was a great acting. He didn’t know if he was convinced, but everyone was convinced.

Everyone could see them goofing around, but no one can see the distance that spreads like a wildfire. When they were alone together, they didn’t goof around.

When they parted ways, there was no sappy goodbyes, no tears, or any warm hugs. Seungcheol was not even there to say goodbye. Jihoon was not there to say goodbye. They were not close. Growing up together didn’t change that fact. A single phone call didn’t change that fact either. Jihoon couldn’t pick up. He couldn’t.

“Fuck!” Jihoon cursed because he accidentally pressed the button to accept the call.

He hesitantly picked up. And there was no sound. _Should I just hang up?_

His heart was beating erratically.

After a minute of immersing in silence, he finally gathered his courage to speak.

"Hello. Who is calling?" Jihoon tried to sound tired, sleepy, and bothered. But most importantly, he wanted him to know that he didn't keep his number after all this years.

"I’m an old memory." His voice was still the same, but now with a rough hint—probably from staying up late.

There was a long silence. Jihoon still persisted that he didn’t know him. Their hitched breaths were audibly clear. "Are you calling for help? Are you drunk? Are you sure you’re not calling the wrong number?"

"I’m not calling for help. I'm calling the memory. And you’re the memory.”

“You dialled the wrong number, then. I can’t help you.”

“To be honest, I don’t really need help. I need a healing, from the memory. From you.”

“At 2 AM?” Jihoon tried to avert the topic.

“Yes.”

"Well, the memory said, go back to sleep."

"I thought you said I got the wrong number? Are you actually the memory?" His tone was teasing. He always liked teasing.

"Everyone would say the same. Go back to sleep, Seungcheol." _Crap, I just called his name._

"I’m already calling you from my dream.” His voice turned softer.

"If it's your dream, then I can pretend to be your memory." They were already pretending.

"To be honest, you are not a memory, Jihoon." Seungcheol muttered gently. Jihoon gulped. He finally said it. He said his name.

"Huh?”

"You are more alive than a memory. Or should I say.. a living memory?"

“Then I’m still a memory, then?”

“No. A different kind of memory.”

"Don't get too hung up. Memory can’t be alive."

"I didn't get too hung up, I just miss it somehow," He took a deep breath. "but I decided not to miss it anymore."

"If you’re a pencil you would be dull because you lack a point." He couldn’t hide feeling infuriated. _Did he just imply that he doesn’t miss him anymore?_

"You are still sarcastic." He sound amused. Jihoon chuckled. "You are still ridiculous."

"You don’t really change. The only difference is that you’re getting old."

"Yeah, I am, I guess. And with more knives."

"For what?"

"To slit your guts." Seungcheol laughed. "I think I’m _scared_." He faked a scared sound. They were getting a bit too comfortable that Jihoon was terrified—he missed him so much and the latter probably didn’t feel the same.

"Anyway, this memory is old and tired and yawning now." Jihoon demonstrated a yawn. "Better end the call."

"I'm done missing the memory."

"For God’s sake I know and—"

"But I'm not done holding on to it." His voice was stern. The silence was stern. Jihoon didn’t see that coming. And he was faltering.

"D-don't you think it's too late?" His voice cracked. _Damn it._

"Seven years is not too late, Jihoon." Upon hearing that, he didn't smile—which is a lie.

Seven years of not seeing each other was also a lie because they had seen each other in their dreams. Seungcheol was there with him in the ship. He was in all of his ships.

Then Jihoon abruptly closed the line.

He went back to staring at his phone screen because Seungcheol was calling him again. But he couldn’t pick up. He just couldn’t process anything and his hands were trembling greatly.

_With my everything, I can't give anything to pick up a call._

Or perhaps he was just enjoying this too much, he enjoyed the continuous vibration and seeing a certain name that lit up in the dark.

After an incessant vibration that was coming from the phone, it stopped. It was finally silent.

The sound of his heart beat was evident in the dark. His ragged breathing was audible and the sound of the ticking clock started to bother him. He waited and he waited. _Maybe he’s given up on me._

Then it was coming again.

And again. And again. Until it could build a rhythm.

And it was already the fourth call.

Jihoon had never felt such bliss to have a call bothering him at 2 AM. It seemed like Seungcheol knew that he needed that; the constant vibration, the attention.

Jihoon nestled his phone closer to his pillow; he could feel its vibration tickling his cheeks.

Then he closed his eyes.

He finally found a lullaby to sleep well.

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY JICHEOL DAYY!!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it? Anyway, if any of you are willing to beta this or anything pls do tell mee!!! 
> 
> Comment or kudos to make my day!!! (or to make friends with me I'm so alone in this jicheol ship) TT__TT


End file.
